


His Barkeep

by Violet_Quaileggs



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Bartender AU, Crushes, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Quaileggs/pseuds/Violet_Quaileggs
Summary: Daryl hated his co-worker at the bar. Or so he thought.Maybe he just hated that the kid was always drawing attention to himself. Attention of other people, other than him.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Jesus, Daryl Dixon/Paul Rovia
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	His Barkeep

**Author's Note:**

> Started this piece in Jan 2018. Finished it today. Don't you just love how inspirations work.

“A Jack and coke. Hold the coke.” Daryl rolled his eyes and reached for a glass. He poured the white collar asshole a drink and set it down more harshly than he intended to. He was a little irritated today, not gonna lie. 

The day started with a bad omen. Daryl wasn’t superstitious, but really, it was a pretty bad way to start the day with. The cops were banging at his doors at fucking seven in the morning ( _didn’t know pigs woke up so early_ ) and bombarded him with questions about Merle’s escape, yet again. The man broke out of prison three months ago and they still hadn’t been able to track him down. And Daryl was suspect numero uno for being an accessory in his escape. That couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Daryl had no fucking clue where his brother was and had no wish to know. He had been building his life back up from the shit pile that Merle had left him in 5 years ago when he was arrested. He was grateful that the man didn’t rat him out and put him behind bars also, but still, he didn’t want nothing to do with him anymore. His life was good now. He had stable jobs, they all were part-times but they put food on the table. And he got friends, real fucking friends, unlike those thuggish assholes Merle called his. 

Afterwards, the pigs left with yet another warning that if they found out Daryl was hiding a fugitive, he would be in serious shit. Daryl glared at them disinterestedly before slamming the door into their faces. Then as he left for the tattoo parlor, his bike broke down. Apparently, some assholes had stripped a few pieces of his bike to sell. He vowed to kill the fuckers once he learned their names. Better life be damned, ain’t nobody gonna fuck with his bike and walk away alive. 

As he was fixing it up from the spare parts he could get from the shop, he got a text from Terminus Diner’s owner, telling him that he was laid off for their business was getting slow. Not even a call, just a text to tell him that he lost another job. Yeah… he might or might not be lying to himself about the stable jobs part. 

One job was actually stable, however: his bartending position at the Walker’s. The shitty dive bar had become like a second home to him for the past four years, it was where he met most of his friends and it brought frequent incomes. There was one thing about the Walker’s that he hated, or more specifically, one person, and it was the new kid, Paul. The guy called himself Jesus for fuck’s sake. Thinking about the prick made Daryl’s head hurt and other parts of his body feel weird. 

When he was done with the damn bike, he got to the parlor and went to work. Rosita, one of his colleagues, teased him when he told her about the bike, saying he should treat people better if he didn’t want his shit stolen. The guy he was digging a needle into also chimed in on the fun and he flipped both of them off, he really didn’t feel like joking today.

The sun finally set as he was off for his night shift at the bar. It was the rotten cherry on top of heaping pile of shit that was today, seeing the new kid behind the counter as he walked in. The sight of the younger man was not as bad as he made it sound, he was objectively very attractive. The shitty part was that the man liked to flirt in his work. Not just with his colleagues but also with customers. And he got pretty great tips for that. Daryl leaned against the back counter to observe the kid sliding around, serving drinks while batting eyelashes at the patrons with his green doey eyes. The sight upset him awfully and he couldn’t understand why. He was too irritated and tired to figure out. 

“Hey, you ok?” He heard someone asked and it snapped him out of his silent sulking. He glanced up to find those doe eyes staring into his soul and he averted his to push down the weird feeling. “ ‘M fine.” He grunted. 

“You don’t look fine. What’s going on?” The man had always been persistent, Daryl could find himself admiring the trace in some other circumstances but right now, he just wanted him to shut up. “Ain’t nothin’s goin’ on.” He could be just as stubborn if he wanted to.

“ _Daryl…”_ The kid drew his name out and the fucking eerie feeling crept up his spine again. He wanted to scratch at it but he knew the feeling wasn’t physical and it ticked him off even more. He didn’t answer but those green eyes still bore holes into him so he settled for a “Just a bad day ‘s all.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” Daryl had expected him to ask as much. There was only one person who he’d ever confered his thoughts to and it took him three years to get to that point with her. He knew this little prick for five months and he found himself contemplating if he should tell him about his day. That thought scared him. When and how the fuck did he start trusting the prick enough to even _consider_ talking to him about his problems? Daryl shook his head of the thought. _Nah, I ain’t tellin’ him shit. What do he care ‘bout anyway?_ , he settled for that thought

He could see the lil’ prick opening his mouth to continue questioning him but the door was barged in by a bunch of college kids who went straight for the bar, and they were still at work so they left the conversation at that.

Daryl silently made the drinks while Paul ran his motor mouth at their new customers. He used his empathy ploy to fish out more tips from the young adults, saying how he remembered going to college and how hard it was, when Daryl knew he never spent a single day in those buildings. They all bought it as they moaned to him about assignments and exams. He kept pouring them more and more drinks as they talked on, none of them realizing what he was doing. Daryl gotta admit, the kid was good. 

Though, when he started pulling more tricks out of his sleeves, also known as the flirty bartender game, Daryl just had to look away. Or else he might break something, or someone’s face. Tonight it was a bulky frat kid with a letterman jacket, looking head over heels over the lil’ prick’s nonsense. He could see right through all of his bullshit, hands coming up to comb back his long luscious locks, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, eyes coy and mischievous. They were all ploys to get the victims entranced and drunk. Daryl wouldn’t admit it on his deathbed but he was one of those victims, as he couldn’t help but get distracted by the guy while knocking back drinks to dissipate his mind of the inappropriate thoughts. (There was a perk in working at a bar, no one would judge ya for drinking on the clock.)

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.” The hippie laughed out loud, the laugh clearly fake yet the jockey goon still bought it, as he smirked back, showing his snaggletooth. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?” 

He didn’t know what came over him but Daryl did a jerk and the drink he was passing to the girls tumbled over and spilled over the frat douche. He didn’t feel an ounce of regret but to save face (and his job), he muttered a curt. “Shit… Sorry, man." The man-child glared at him with a grumble as he stood up and bolted for the bathroom. A few of his friends rushed after him while the rest whined at Daryl, though he couldn’t give a single fuck if he had it. However, he couldn’t ignore the scowl the little prick was giving him. 

“Fuck was that for, huh?” He called him out but there was a small smile lingering on his lips. Daryl just shrugged and leaned back against the counter as he wiped his hand on a towel. “Just saved yer ass, s’all.” 

The prick scoffed, the grin widened as he whipped his towel at Daryl’s leg. “I don’t remember asking to be rescued, dear prince charming. I was handling him just fine on my own.” Daryl wasn’t sure the innuendo was intentional or not, but he gulped down heavily anyway.

“Yeah right.” He smiled to the floor while making a gin and tonic for a woman just walked in. “Unless… Unless you’re actually considerin’ goin’ home with ‘im.” The words tasted weirdly on his tongue, he didn’t like the feeling that thought brought him either. 

The kid bumped his shoulder against him as he retorted. “So what if I was considering? What’s it to you anyway?” 

Daryl looked up to find the kid hanging his head low, hair falling over his face making it hard for him to read what that meant. Palms suddenly felt clammy as he shrugged. “Nothin’. But come on, don’t tell me pampered rich fucks are your type.”

He decided to joke to clear the heavy air hanging between them. The rest of the fucker’s friends glared at him for his comment, one even opening his mouth to start an argument but hippie beat him to it. “He’s not that much of a rich fuck.” 

“Please, the kid prolly came out of his mama with silver spoons stickin’ outta every hole.” Daryl grumbled and that earned him a wave of “Oh, fuck off, dude”, “You’re an asshole” and “You lost our tips, you know that right?”. None of which he responded to as the college kids stormed out of the bar. The hippie frowned at him disapprovingly while some of the blue collar folks even shook his head at him. 

“Oh come on, guys. I ain’t the bad guy here.” He cried. Abraham, one of the men who frequented here scolded him, “That don’t make you a good guy either, champ. You were kinda piece of shit.” That got a chuckle out of the little prick as Daryl resolved to rolling his eyes at them

The bathroom door opened, interrupting their conversation as the frat kid stumbled out with a couple of his friends, a large wet spot on the front of his shirt and pants. “Where’s everyone?” He asked no one in particular but Daryl saw his eyes darting over to the hippie. 

“Off. Better run afta ‘em.” He grunted, not letting the younger bartender get a word in. “What? Why?” The blond pushed. Daryl didn’t blame him for being confused but really, his voice was fucking annoying. 

“I think they’ll tell you when you catch up to them. So, bye now.” The lil prick waved at them as some of them rushed out. The frat douche was still planted in his place as disappointment was written on his face, and Daryl almost felt sorry for him. _Almost._ When the asshole continued, he just wanted to deck him cold. “Can I at least get your number?” 

The grip Daryl had on the glass in his hand tightened all of a sudden, his knuckles looked white. The little prick seemed to notice it as well when he glanced over to him then awkwardly replied. “I… uh.. I lost my phone.” Daryl wanted to burst out laughing, he couldn’t decide to laugh at the douche for being rejected or at how pathetic that rejection was. The douche ducked his head as he muttered something and dashed after his peers. 

“That was fucking pathetic, Jesus.” Tara punched his shoulder lightly as she laughed. “I thought Daryl was horrible with his words, you’re even worse, kiddo.” Dale chimed in as he took a swig of his beer. 

The prick huffed and stormed to the back room. “Oh, fuck you guys.” 

Daryl didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but feel a little better about his day after that whole mess. He felt at ease at the bar, the whole atmosphere of it were comforting, and the people in it weren’t so bad either. Especially the little prick. Alright, Daryl may had been exaggerating his hatred for the kid. He was just hating the attention the asshole drew to himself, attention of _others_ than him. 

Christ, that prick was really doing his head in, ain’t he?

_________________________

“Sounds to me you have a bad case of “ _crush”,_ Pookie.” 

At that, Daryl almost spluttered his beer all over the balcony they were sitting on. Carol, his neighbor and best friend, smiled into her own bottle as she tilted her head at him. “Don’t even dare denying it. I know you, kid, and I know you’ve never talked about anyone as much as you talk about this _Jesus Paul_ person. He sounds nice, I can’t say I disapprove.”

They did know each other. Been knowin’ each other for, _what?_ , eight years now. After he had intervene in Carol and her ex-husband’s fight, (it was more of a one-sided punching session than an actual fight), they had stuck together like glue. He’d stepped forward to testify for her in her case against that dirtbag of a human. He didn’t like the idea of being put in the spotlight in the name of the law, but he knew what he had to say would really help Carol and her kid, Sophia, in getting rid of that scumbag from their lives. And it did, as the asshole was put away for 4 years and a restraining order was put upon him to keep him away from her and her daughter. The whole process was fucking stressful, and Daryl had stuck with her from start to finish as a confidant and a trusted friend. Carol had grown so much since those days and so had Daryl, and they had grown closer to one another. He’d consider her his family, and she’d say the same. So, yeah, she could say that she “knew him”. Understatement.

“You got no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout. Might be gettin’ too drunk, gimme that, I’ll finish it.” He reached for her beer and got a smack in the back of the head and a youthful laugh from the woman. He couldn’t help but laugh with her.

They sat and drank silently beside one another for another beat, until Carol said, “What are you so afraid of?”

Daryl furrowed his brows, feeling himself retreating into his cocoon of gated comfort, and he almost dismissed her. But they knew each other too well for such dismissal to happen. So he grumbled, “I dunno… He just… he’s so much better than me. He can be with fucking _anyone_ he wants. Why the hell would he-?”

He accidentally bit his tongue as another smack met his head, this one he had no idea why he deserved it. “Hey! What’s that for?” He asked as much.

“I’m not gonna sit here listening to you berate yourself, Daryl. Because you know that shit _is not fucking true.”_ Carol was a strong woman. A stern, headstrong, and brave as fuck woman born from harsh circumstances, but she rarely swore. So when she did, Daryl had no other options but to take her seriously, word for word. 

He nodded, “Ok… I know what you mean. But… you should’ve seen ‘im, Carol. He’s so…. _annoying_ , and… such a brat, and and… and beautiful and youthful and so full of life. He should be with someone who shares that same worldview right?” He was genuinely perplexed, because he thought he hated the kid. Maybe he just hated that he couldn’t be good enough for him and that just manifested as hatred for the man himself. Maybe. 

“Do you think he likes you?” Carol asked. Daryl shook his head instantly, then backtracked, “I mean, he flirted with me. But he would flirt with anyone with a heartbeat. He even hit on an old woman when she wandered into the bar on accident. The lady was good looking for her age, yeah, but I really don’t think that’s his type.”

“I think that’s just called being a nice person, Pookie.” Daryl rolled his eyes at her. 

Carol sighed, before setting her bottle down and scoot over closer to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulder, “From what I’ve heard, Paul’s a nice kid, and he seems interested in you.” 

Daryl widened his eyes at that and she made the same expression, just more extreme to mock him, “Yeah, I know. _Shocking_ . And I think you’re interested in him too. So my advice to you is, take a leap of faith and... _ask him out_ for the love of everything nice and holy.” She gave him a hard pat on the back that almost sent him toppling fact first onto the concrete, before grabbing her half-finished bottle and returned to her apartment. 

Daryl could hear her goodbyes and good-nights faintly in the background as his head swam in the ocean of new thoughts and ideas. _Is Paul really interested in me? No fucking way… But is he? If he is, would he want me to ask him out? What would we even do? How do dates between two men go? How do dates between a man and a woman even go anyway? How the fuck should I know?_

He felt exhausted, especially after the day he’d had, so he called it a night and went to bed. Still, as he closed his eyes and tried to will the day away, the image of a bright joyous smile with feathery long hair falling over that sculpted, bearded face appeared behind his lids. 

He allowed the image to lull him to sleep. 

___________________________

He had work at the Walker’s today. _Shit._

After the talk with Carol last night, all he could think of on his way to the bar was Paul. Did Paul really like him? How would he ask Paul out? _Would_ he even ask Paul out? Paul. Paul. _Paul, Paulpaulpaul…._

He realized that he was so thoroughly and undeniably fucked. 

When he entered the bar and that smile greeted him, that realization only became more obvious and in-your-face, like a blaring neon sign right before his eyes. It was annoying and distracting. Two words he would describe the prick himself. 

He tried to use the job to clear his head, but the job didn’t help as it was slower than a slug on a hot day at the bar today. When he had stocked all the drinks, did all the dishes, dealt with all the inventory, prepped all the lemons and salt, he got nothing left to distract him from… Paul. The kid was trying to look busy as he wiped the glasses, but Daryl knew he was just as bored and out of things to do as he was. Then the kid smiled at him and he wanted to melt into the earth.

“Were you staring at me, Mr. Dixon?” He batted his eyelashes at him and it made Daryl’s heart stop for a second in his chest. Then a bitter taste bubbled up from the back of his throat as he thought about the other times Paul had done the same thing to patrons to get some extra tips. He wondered if the kid was a mind-reading psychic because the next second, he dropped the act and trained his face into a serious expression. 

“Hey, is everything alright? What are you thinking about?” Alright, maybe he couldn’t read mind.

Paul tilted his head like he was curious and actually wanted to know what Daryl was thinking. _“He seems interested in you… Shocking.”_ Carol’s words echoed in his ears as he shook his head to bring himself back into reality. 

“Nothin’. Just… bullshit.” He wanted all these contradicting thoughts to go away so badly.

“Tell me.” The kid pushed as he stopped whatever he was doing and drifted closer to Daryl, eyes curious and concerned. _Concerned, why the fuck would-,_ he shook his head again. The little prick was really messing with his head these days. 

“We have close to zero customers right now, c’mon, you got somewhere to be?” Paul was trying to lighten the mood, since he could very well sense his anxiety on whatever matter was on his mind. The kid was perceptive like that, always the people person, and Daryl found himself admiring that trait of him for once, instead of being annoyed that he drew so much attention to himself all the time. It probably helped that the bar was fairly empty now, so there was no audience for Paul to perform for. He didn’t _have_ to ask questions, he didn't _have_ to care, he wasn’t trying to get tips from Daryl. He was just kind to the core. 

Daryl made his decision then and he almost swallowed his tongue in the nervous gulp that he took. Darting an eye around the place, making sure it was really empty and no one was within earshot, he asked Paul out. Not that he was ashamed about any of this, ( _you’re a motherfucking dumbass if you dare to be ashamed of this beautiful man,_ he thought to himself), he just wanted this to be _their_ own. Just them. 

And it was made abundantly clear that it was _them_ when Paul flashed him that smile again, yet this one was different in a way, because it was only meant for Daryl. And Paul said yes. Daryl didn’t expect rejection, because the kid was too nice to reject him outright, but he didn’t expect _that._

“Yes?” He just had to confirm. 

Paul let out a chuckle as he nodded, a few strands of hair escaped his loose bun and fell over his face, “Yes, Daryl. I would love to go out with you.” He chuckled then at Daryl’s still dumbfounded look. 

“Did you think I was gonna say no?” He smirked smugly at him and Daryl closed his mouth, ( _didn’t know it was open)._ He shook his head, “N-No… just… didn’t you think you’d say yes.” 

Paul let out a laugh that only brightened Daryl’s day, “You need better planning skills, Mr. Dixon.”

__________________________

Carol made dinner for him and Paul’s date and that made him felt fourteen years old. He felt a compelling urge to yell _“Mom, get out of my room!”_ for some reason. To which, Carol’s response was, “Don’t worry about it. You can babysit later for me as thanks.” That drifted into a conversation about Carol and her husband’s love life, how they’d been going on date nights every single week as a new ritual Ezekiel had conjured up and roped Carol along. They still needed someone to look after Henry, despite the twelve-year-old insistence that he was old enough to take care of himself. Daryl loved how happy she looked talking about her family, it was a beautiful look on her. He agreed to babysit the kid with no hesitance, he liked the boy, he was a brat, but only because he was loved by the most wonderful parents in the world.

“Oh, and Sophia is visiting next weekend. You’re invited to dinner.” It was more of a command than an invite but he didn’t mind, just simply accepted it. 

After Carol had given him all the food and instructions on how to heat them up, she returned home. Then Daryl set out to pick Paul up from his place, which was a good twenty minute drive from his. If tonight went on well, Paul might have to spend the night. And Daryl was too giddy to feel guilty about that assumption. 

Paul's face had lit up when he saw the spread of food on Daryl's table. He practically moaned when he shoved a forkful of lasagna into his mouth. Daryl wanted to be the one to pull such reaction from him, but he had to give credit where it was due. Paul hummed at that, "Hmm… maybe I should date Carol. I'll live a delicious life then." Then he proceeded to chuckle to Daryl's solemn look. 

They fell into easy conversation about their lives, sitting on the floor of his living room, eating homemade lasagna and fruits. Daryl surprised himself as he told Paul about his childhood, about his fugitive brother who he’d not spoken for years and resented but couldn’t help but care about. Paul in turn told him about his parents before they got into that accident, about his life in the system. 

“... So I passed through about thirteen foster homes until I got booted out when I turned eighteen.” Paul said around his fork, humming every so often at the food, the sounds were melodic to Daryl’s ears and he made a mental note to give Carol some extra thanks for this. 

“They were idiots for not keeping you.” Daryl mumbled around his mouthful of tomato-y goodness. Paul chuckled and made his stomach flutter again.

“Nah, they weren’t. You may not recognize it because I hide it so well, but I was a real piece of shit.”

“Was?” He quirked his eyebrow at the kid and got an indignant gasp as a reply. A grape was chucked at his face and he raised his hand to block the projectile fruit, then caught it in his palm and plopped it onto his mouth.

“I toned down my assholery for the professional setting, I’ll have you know.” Paul turned up his nose as if he was an aristocrat. Daryl had thought he was a snotty brat, but this only solidified the image.

“So you’re worse outside of work?” 

Paul’s feature grew serious and chaste for a moment, “You’ll just have to find out then.”

It was an invitation to spend time with him outside of work, to know more about him, to let him know more about himself. Daryl didn’t feel guilty that the suggestion filled him with hope and yearning. _Yes,_ he would really like that. 

Before he knew it, he’d gotten a faceful of Paul, his lips were on his and the powerful smell of just… _Paul_ was engulfing his whole being. He was pulled under water and he could do nothing but yield to the current as he allowed Paul to climb onto his lap and pull their bodies together. Daryl’s hands reached out to wrap around the kid’s waist, feeling the toned muscles shifting beneath the fabric of his indie band shirt. He had never kissed or been kissed like this before and it was something else. Something ethereal. He could feel Paul’s hands in his hair and on his shoulder, clenching and unclenching occasionally. He could feel Paul’s growing erection rubbing against his own as he shifted ever so slightly in his lap. A shaky sigh was breathed into his mouth and he was intoxicated.

“Do you want this?” Paul asked and his hazy mind couldn’t pinpoint what the question was about. The younger man pulled back and Daryl almost whined at the loss, he hoped his mouth wasn’t hanging open like it used to do when he got high with his brother. Always got teased for it, hoped Paul wouldn’t do the same. Because, there was no denying it, Paul was a drug and Daryl was already hooked on him. 

“I want to do this. Do _you_ ?” He asked again, and this time, Daryl’s brain could connect the dots and he nodded. _God, yes_. Paul descended upon him again and he inhaled his scent, savoring the burn in his lungs for not getting enough fresh air as it was filtered through a “Paul veil”. He got some hair in his mouth and he swore it tasted sweet. Paul was writhing in his lap, body bouncing ever so lightly as if he was on a kiddie ride, Daryl was the horse and Paul’s kisses were the coins. 

When Paul removed his shirt, Daryl thought he might have short-circuited for a moment. His hands hesitantly reached out and made contact with the younger one’s tones chest, unkempt nails threatening to claw into the flesh. “You like what you see?” The kid teased and all Daryl could do was to grunt a desperate _“Yes”_ like a damn caveman. 

“Well, c’mon now. _Tit_ for tat.” The kid wiggled his eyebrows at the word “tit” like a fucking pervert and Daryl chuckled into his collarbone. An irrational fear bloomed in his chest as he thought of how Paul would react to his scars. He knew the man was not as mean as to ridicule him or pull away and leave him high and dry. He knew that but he couldn't help but be afraid. He knew he was being irrational so he moved his trembling hands and unbuttoned his shirt. 

Paul might have, once again, caught onto his anxiety as the kid placed his own hands over his. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s alright.” Daryl's resolution grew stern then as he looked Paul straight in the eye. "I want to."

Despite saying so, he was still shaking, but Paul also didn't let up his soft but steady grip on his hands. And though rather awkwardly, they got his shirt unbuttoned with team effort. When the worn out dress shirt came off, Daryl had to hold his breath, he didn't know why. _Anticipation_ ? _Dumb fear again? Or just nerve?_

Paul took a deep inhale as he trailed his eyes over his exposed body. There was less scars on his front than his back, but there was enough to put off someone squeamish. Paul hovered his fingers over one in the middle of his chest and longing eyes bore into his as a request for permission. Daryl nodded and the hand descended on him, his palms felt cold on his heightened and fried senses and Daryl shivered. Then another hand joined that one as it splayed on his belly. They started moving, drifting over his nipples and around his shoulders.

Paul kissed him again and his hands moved past his front and drifted towards his shoulder blades, the spot where most trauma was endured. His hand felt cool on the ridges of his scars and Daryl in turn wrapped his arms around Paul's middle, pulling him closer. 

"Bedroom. Now." He commanded and Daryl had naught to do by obey. Paul climbed off his lap and grabbed his hand as he led Daryl to _his_ bedroom. The kid didn't know where he was going as he almost went for the closet. Daryl chuckled as he pulled the man the other direction and guided him into his bedroom. The sight of a shirtless, flushed Paul Rovia in his bedroom was something he didn't know he needed until he saw it. 

Paul pulled him into a kiss again and Daryl walked him backwards until they hit the bed and toppled over. "Sorry." said Daryl as he'd just knocked the wind out of the other man. 

"It's fine. I don't need air anyway." He gestured at their position, with Daryl pressing his whole grown man weight upon Paul and trapping him down. He widened his eyes and made a move to get up but Paul just wretched him down again by his hair. "Don't you dare move away." He mumbled against his lips. 

They spent another good while kissing on the bed, hands exploring and groping. When they had been fully naked and ready to burst, Paul pushed him to his back, dashed out of the room and doubled back before he knew it. Daryl found it ridiculously hot that despite being pinned down by him, Paul could flip him over and get out anytime he wanted, he just chose not to. He knew the kid worked out and was a parkour enthusiast, he just didn't realize the extent. 

The younger man chucked a bottle of lube and a string of condoms at him, smiling seductively. "How do you want this?" He asked, sitting cross-legged in front of him on the bed. Daryl felt like a pervert for darting his eyes down to the man's standing flagpole as he did. 

"Um.. uh… I don't know. Just… whatever you want." 

For the first time that night, Daryl initiated the kiss as he took Paul's face in his hands, swallowing his giggles ( _swear to God, giggles)._ Paul nodded, making his head move as well. "Ok."

He popped the cap of the bottle and squirted a generous amount onto Daryl fingers, then lay back on the bed and drew his legs up. "I want you to touch me."

_Y-yup. I'm dead. This is heaven. Dunno what I did right to be here but yup! Ain't alive._

He reached out and stroked a lubed up finger against Paul's hole and that elicited a shaky exhale from the man. Then he pressed the finger against it gently and Paul breathed even harder. "Stop fucking teasing me, Daryl. I might die."

He thought _he_ was dead?

He heeded to the demand and pressed his finger into the man's pink hole, feeling the warmth wrap around his digit. He pumped it in and out, eating up Paul's sighs as he added another finger and started scissoring them. He reached in to his knuckles and began crooking the fingers. When he bumped against a spot, Paul yelped and writhed his hips against his hand. He pressed on the spot again and the man let out moans that made Daryl’s dick twitch and leak desperately. 

As he continued fingering Paul, his mouth took Paul’s aching cock in and another cry escaped the mouth further up the bed. He couldn’t swallow the whole thing to the base, he was not that experience just yet, but he made up for it by lapping and sucking earnestly at Paul’s tip, adding another finger and pressing against the bundle of nerve inside of the man. Gasping, wriggling, Paul was unrest and Daryl felt heavenly.

“S-stop… I’m gonna….” He pushed at Daryl’s head so he backed off, trailing spit and precome down his face. Paul pulled him up for a kiss, mouthing at his chin and over to his ear. He breathed into it, “I want you inside of me.” 

Daryl might have had a heart attack. He fumbled blindly on the sheets to retrieve the condoms while Paul stroke his penis, twisting his hand at the tip and made him see spots from behind his eyelids. He praised the lord when he found the condom and ripped the package open like a starving animal. He put it on and the younger man helped lube him up and the next thing he knew, he was engulfed by overwhelming blissful heat. Daryl was afraid he might have come just then, but thankfully, he willed himself to think about some nasty stuff so as not to blow his load right then and there. 

_Flooded toilet. Nasty ass flooded toilet at the Walker’s that you have to fucking call the plumber for because no man-made plunger could deal with that._

“Earth to Daryl. You there?” Paul placed a kiss on his temple to bring him back into the moment. Daryl returned the favor as he mouthed on his jaw. “Yeah… I just don’t want to… ya know?”

“I know.” Paul surprised him by saying so as the man smiled coyly. “I’m right there with you. But you need to _move.”_ He punctuated it by grounding his hips against Daryl’s erection, and pulling moans out from them both. 

Daryl complied and began rolling hips, setting a nice easy pace to which Paul moaned and grunted at, “I said move, Dixon.” He started moving faster but it proved not enough to satiate the man. Daryl didn’t get a say before he was flipped onto his back by sneaky ninja power and rode into bed. He couldn’t bite back the desperate groans he let out even if he was sober enough to try. Every move Paul made above him, he took in. The rigorous way he moved his hips, the way his dick bounced with every gallop he made, the sounds coming from his mouth, the sweat dripping down his chest which Daryl caught with his hands and smeared over his chest and perked nipples. The taste of Paul as he folded over him and kissed him, lower body still moving and grinding. He snuck a hand in between them and gave Paul a few jerk, and then he was gasping and coming all over their chests. He swallowed the sounds he made and engrained the image into his head and vowed to never let it fade away. 

Paul shook through his orgasm, then started moving again, this time to get Daryl off. It didn’t take long, not after witnessing that, before Daryl was pulsating into the condom. The younger man rode him through it and he trembled from oversensitivity. Paul collapsed upon him then, breathing heavily and wetly, he could faintly feel the stickiness beginning to solidify, but he was too blissed out to do anything about it at that second. 

Reaching a hand up, he combed through Paul’s hair, unsticking it from his sweaty forehead and back. He gave him another kiss before getting up and trodding over to the bathroom. With moist towels, he wiped the kid off, relishing in the cat-like purs he let out. When both of them were clean, he flopped on the bed and instantly, their bodies drew to each other like magnets, heavy limbs wrapped around one another. 

“I’m sorry… for being so aggressive earlier. I didn’t check in if you were ok with it first.” Paul mumbled into his arm, voice sounded sleepy. 

“Nah it’s fine. I thought it was cute.” Daryl admitted. The kid spluttered, “Pssh, please. You were _so_ fucking turned on, don’t even deny it.” 

_Prick._

They lay in silence, Daryl might have thought the man had dozed off, but then he heard, “Thought you hated me.” Daryl’s mind played him a recap reel of the times he was dismissive and downright hostile towards the kid, he realized he was just as much if not worse of a prick. “Thought you were just messing with me." 

He used to say he hated the guy because it was an easy enough emotion to describe. But as he learned, he didn't hate Paul, he just hated the thought of Paul toying with his heart like it was nothing, with all his casual flirting and teasing. Truth _now_ was that the man was genuinely flirting with him. How the hell was he supposed to know that then?

"I'm sorry." Paul's voice was small, heavy with fatigue but he really meant it. Daryl hummed and ran his hand up and down the younger man's arm, "Me too.” 

“Too bad we wasted so much time dicking around,” Paul yawned and nuzzled against him, “We could spend all that time _dicking around_ instead.” The fatigue went away almost instantly and gave way to that perverse smile and eyebrow wiggle. Daryl planted his whole hand on the kid’s face and pushed his head away, “Fucking pervert.” 

Paul laughed against his palm and the sound was so soothing, he thought he might drift off. 

And so he did, not before pulling the other body closer to his for good measures.

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna do a slow-burn, but found myself too antsy for a slow-burn. How the hell do people do it?


End file.
